Harry Potter and the Dog of Slueth Castle
by Bonne Jenet
Summary: Harrys sixteen now, and dealing with his loss well. Or so everyone is thinking. Truth be told, he looks for his godfather everywhere, jumps at every black shadow that slips by. But his attention is grabbed by something else...Draco's not in school...
1. Summoning Bill

Summoning Bill.  
  
It was rather fun, in a twisted way, watching the Dursleys flinch when Harry entered the room. He was rarely shouted at and he deserved it then. But four weeks came and went, and sixteen-year-old Harry had begun to tire of the way they acted toward him. One such incident happened on the morning of Harry's birthday. Harry Potter woke up early with a start after another haunting dream. He prodded the lightening-bolt scar on his forehead, but it did not prickle or burn as it usually did after such a dream. He rubbed his eyes and found them wet--with sweat or tears, he didn't know. He took off the bed clothes and swung his legs over the side of his bed, groping in the darkness for his glasses. He found them, put them on, switched on the lamp and stared, blinking around his rather unusual room. At the foot of his bed lay a large wooden trunk, over flowing with books, black robes, socks, t-shirts and jeans. His bedroom floor was in the same disarray, but here and there were pieces of parchment, quills and inkwells, along with plates of crispy, curled food. In one corner, unusually clear, propped up on the wall, was Harry's pride and joy- the Firebolt, the fastest broom ever made, a present from Harry's godfather, Sirius. Harry's eyes lingered on it longingly then looked to the top of his wardrobe. There sat a large cage, empty but for the water tray and perch. Usually, during the day, inside the cage would have sat a large, female, snowy owl by the name of Hedwig. Harry was not a normal teenager. He attended a school called Hogwarts, which taught its students magic beyond anything a child could imagine. Its current headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, was a great wizard with whom Harry was very close to. Stretching, Harry got up and got dressed, checking himself in the mirror with an enormous yawn. He was a very tall boy, with black unruly hair, that would never lie flat, no matter what. His eyes were bright green, like his mothers, and intelligent, framed by his round, black glasses. His clothes were new and actually fitted him, as, before his aunt and uncle had been threatened by Harry's friends, he had been wearing his cousins, Dudley, very large clothes, as Dudley was a very large boy. He had forced them to buy him clothes or threatened to tell his very threatening looking friends that he was being mistreated. His friends were quite nice to Harry, especially his two best friends Ron and Hermione, but to non-magic muggles like the Dursleys, the werewolf Remus Lupin and the heavily scarred wizard hunter Alastor Moody, were very ominous and crazy freaks. Harry also had the look of someone who had grown and fattened a lot in a short space of time, although he was still quite skinny for someone his age. Running a hand through his hair, Harry made his way downstairs in the semi-darkness of early dawn, yawning all the way. He entered the kitchen and was very surprised to find Dudley sitting at the table, his pig-like eyes fixed on the television. Dudley made no sign of recognition to Harry so he, Harry, helped himself to a slice of pie from the fridge. He sat himself opposite Dudley who glared at him then settled his eyes on the pie. "Who said you could have that?" he mumbled. Harry smiled. "Me, of course. D'you want some, Dud?" he asked, moving toward the fridge. Dudley twitched. "What?" "You-want-pie?" Harry repeated slowly, miming eating the pie. Dudley scowled, rose and slowly backed away from Harry. "Me, take something from you? Are you kidding?" "No. What are you talking about?" Harry said, scowling back. Dudley's thin narrow mouth formed a mirthless smile. Harry was very confused for a moment and then he laughed. "Dudley, come on! I haven't poisoned it, though no doubt you deserve it," he chuckled. His cousins' smile disappeared and he opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by a sharp rapping on the kitchen window. Harry shook his head and went over to it and pushed it open. It felt like a miniature whirlwind, blurring past Harrys ear and landing on the kitchen table. Dudley squeaked and fell backwards, shaking the floor beneath Harry's feet. Harry suppressed a laugh and went over to Pigwidgeon, the miniature owl whirlwind. The palm-sized owl Pigwidgeon, or Pig, belonged to Harry's best friend Ron and Harry rushed to detach the letter Pig had on his leg. It read, Dear Harry,  
Happy Birthday, mate! My mum decided to give you your present when you get here, I haven't forgotten, Harry. Thanks a lot for the chocolate cake, it was huge. Did you use an enlargement charm on it? Hermione got me a sort of back pack for Pig so he can carry packages. You can come here the day Pig gets this letter to you. Got your wand? Just say Summoniaro and hold your wand in the air. Dad'll come get you. We would've used floo powder but dad didn't want to do what happened last time. Did your uncle get the fireplace fixed? Can't wait to see you! Bill and Charlie are here and Hermione will come when she comes back from Hawaii.  
Ron.  
  
"So that's why Hermione hasn't written!" said Harry, re-folding the letter and putting it in his pocket. Looking up, he saw that Dudley had gone. Harry shrugged, not really caring were his grossly over-weight cousin had gone. He was finally getting free of the Dursleys! Finally free of their loathing glares and always knowing that he was never welcome in their home.  
  
Harry went to his room and began to pack. But when he was halfway through, he came across a small plain mirror and gasped; it was a mirror Sirius had given him. The mirror enabled the holder to talk to someone far away if they spoke their name to it. Only problem was Harry had shattered it the previous year in a fit of rage. Harry stared at it. He got an idea, took out his wand and muttered, "Reparo!" The glass mended itself. "Sirius?" he whispered, almost cautiously, "Sirius Black?" His hopes shot up as the mirrors face shifted strangely and he brought it to touch his nose, searching for any familiar feature of his godfather. But none came; the mirrors face remained clouded with black smoke then Harry flung it with force into his trunk, slammed the lid shut and sat onto his bed, head in his hands. After a while he raised his head and saw that the sun was fully up now, and Hedwig still wasn't back. He threw the rest of his things in the trunk carelessly, anger boiling up inside him. Sirius had said the mirror could reach him anywhere, so wasn't wherever dead people went anywhere? He picked up his Firebolt and tried to chuck it in the trunk too, knowing that it wouldn't fit but not really caring. He heard his Aunt Petunia making breakfast downstairs and realised he hadn't eaten the pie. No doubt Dudley had told his father, Vernon, about Pig, who sat pecking at Hedwig's owl treats in her cage. Harry stood on tip toe and slammed the cage door shut, making Pigwidgeon twitter angrily. Ignoring it, Harry grabbed his wand from the bedside table, shoved it into the waistband of his jeans and went downstairs, his stomach rumbling. Harrys mothers' only living relative, Petunia, was a pale, horse faced woman, completely different from Harrys mother Lily. Her husband Vernon was just around the same weight as Dudley and reminded Harry of a large beetroot with a moustache. Both he and Dudley sat at the kitchen table when Harry walked in. He sat down, apparently unnoticed, and let Aunt Petunia shove a plateful of food in front of him. He began to eat when Uncle Vernon coughed loudly. "Boy," he said. Harry looked up through his fringe. Uncle Vernon coloured slightly (if that was possible for a beetroot) and continued, " Is it true that another one of those accursed owls entered my house this morning?" He regarded Harry as he swallowed a bite of sausage. " Yeah," Harry replied, " Why?" " Because.you know how I feel about owls, boy!" Uncle Vernon hissed, his temper rising at Harrys casualness. Harry took another bite of sausage, chewed, swallowed and said, "He was only giving me a letter, Uncle Vernon." "A letter!? From that crazy school of yours!?" "No. From my friend, Ron Weasley. I'm going to his house today. Infact," Harry said, getting up and wiping crumbs from his jumper, "I think I'll leave now." Harry retrieved his wand, held it in the air and said, "Summoniaro!" His wand emitted a blast of red light which disappeared through the ceiling. Uncle Vernon fell of his chair, Dudley squealed and hid under the table and Aunt Petunia fainted over the counter. Harry hurried upstairs. When he opened the door, there was a loud crack and Pigwidgeon squawked and flung himself against the bars of the cage. Bill, Ron's older bother, had Apparated, appeared in another place using magic, right on Harrys bed. Bill was a good looking man with bright red hair, like all the Weasley children, tied back in a pony tail and he had a dragon-fang earring through one ear. Harry thought Bill to be very cool looking, even more so then, for he was wearing a rather battered Metallica t-shirt and jeans that were ripped at the knees. He grinned when he saw Harry. " Hullo Harry! You've moved your bed I see," he said, jumping onto the floor and looking around. Harry smiled. " Yeah. How're you doing Bill? I thought your Dad was supposed to come get me?" replied Harry, taking his Firebolt from the trunk and closing it tightly. Bill nodded. "Oh, he was. But he got called of for urgent business at the Ministry. Oh, great! You're all packed then. Hullo Pig!" Bill released Pig from Hedwig's cage and flapped his hands at him as the owl twittered about his head. " Oh, yeah.almost forgot Harry. Your owl's at our house. Is it Hedwig?" Harry nodded, relieved. "Why did she go there?" he asked, puzzled. Bill nodded at Pig. "Ron said she must have met him and went straight there to wait for you. She's smart. And bossy. Got Ron to make a bed for her in his room. Alright then, ready to go? Stand beside your trunk and I'll stand at the other side. Got your Firebolt? I want to have a go on it.alright then." And they disappeared, trunk and all, with another loud crack. 


	2. Fall of the Weasleys

Fall of the Weasleys  
  
And in no time at all, they stood in the large, rather cluttered kitchen of The Burrow, home to eight of the Weasleys (excluding Percy), Harry's favourite family in the world. Pigwidgeon, whom Bill had held to Apparate, now flitted excitedly around the spacious room, coming to land on the back of one of the many chairs surrounding the well-used family table, joining a large, white, fluff-ball which gave an indignant hoot. "Hedwig!" said Harry. The beautiful snowy owl fluffed her feathers in fond welcome. But Harry stopped himself from setting out to find Ron; it was much too quiet. Not one anguished yell from Mrs Weasley at her twin sons, Fred and George. Not one explosion from the twins' room. Bill frowned. "Mum?" he yelled. But he received no answer. The only sound that answered was the loud clicking and ticking of the unusual grandfather clock which sat beside the table. The clock did not tell time but it instead had a hand for each of the family members: Mr Weasley, Mrs Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Fred and George, Ron, the only other girl in the family Ginny and the long lost son, Percy. These hands pointed to the various positions and well- being of everyone: work, school, home, mortal danger and death. But every single hand pointed to work except for Bills name. Bill noticed this and groaned. "Something must be happening at the Ministry," he sighed, "Leave your stuff here, Harry, and come on. We'll go there by Floo," Harry followed him through an archway into a long, bare room. Infront of them was a very large fire, completely bare except for the little golden pot filled with emerald green dust. Bill grabbed a handful; so did Harry. "Do you know how to.?" Bill nodded toward the fireplace. Harry nodded. He knew how to travel by Floo Powder well enough. Bill grinned, "Right then. Just say "Misuse of Muggle Artefacts" nice 'n' clear," he finished, ushering Harry into the fireplace. Harry said to Bill, "See you there!" then threw his handful of powder at his feet, yelling at the same time, "Misuse of Muggle Artefacts!" He was immediately engulfed by an emerald fire. He felt remarkably cool within that fire, spinning around and around, his elbows tucked in so they wouldn't hit off the sides of the chimney chute. But it was soon over, and Harry had shot out of another fireplace. Straight into a very angry red-headed crowd of people. "Harry!" flustered a familiar voice. Harry was helped to his feet by Ron. He was a head taller than Harry, maybe more, and a bit broader on the shoulders than the last time Harry had seen him, but the freckles, gangly- ness and mop of flaming-red hair that was Ron was the same as they ever were. Harry grinned fondly at his friend, and then it faltered as Ron was not grinning back. Infact, the tops of Ron's ears were almost as red as his hair and his voice was hoarse as if he had been shouting when he said, "Bill, you shouldn't've come! Mum's-" "RON!" Harry jumped, startled by Mrs Weasleys anger. She was scarlet in the face; her hair was all over the place, her plump figure made her look ominous now and tears rolled down her cheeks. Ron shied away from his mother, his height making no war against her immense anger. Harry looked about him and saw that every single Weasley stood there, everyone but Ginny standing in a very tight, very tense, very angry bunch, Percy and Mr Weasley in the centre, sparks almost flying between them. Ginny stood trembling in a far corner of Mr Weasleys office. Bill stood at the fireplace, a look of complete unknowing on his face. Charlie, who had numerous scars and burns from training dragons in Romania, stood behind his father with a hand on Mr Weasleys shoulder, as if to hold him back. Fred and George, who, to Harrys great surprise, wore very expensive looking robes, flanked Charlie at either side, arms folded across their surprisingly broad chests, their faces like thunder. It was a very uncomfortable silence through which Harry studied the Weasleys but it was broken by Mr Weasley or someone that looked like him but did not sound like the kindly, easily fascinated Arthur Weasley that Harry knew. No, it was as if someone nasty and not at all good-natured had pocessed him. "Bill," he growled, his eyes not leaving Percy for a moment, "Take everyone home to The Burrow. DON'T ARGUE!" he bellowed, as everyone except Ginny began to protest. They were immediately silent. Mr Weasley sighed and said, more kindly, "This is something you can't help with. Go home and get some breakfast." Fred opened his mouth to protest but the much stockier Charlie took his hand off his dads shoulder and steered the twins towards the fireplace where they each took a handful of Floo Powder, threw it roughly at the hearth, yelled "The Burrow!" and were gone. Harry said nothing. This was not his business and he still said nothing when Ginny burst into painful tears when he went to get her at Bills gesture. Harry went through after Ron and before Bill and when he landed awkwardly at the other side in The Burrow, he found the kitchen empty but for Ron and a sobbing mess that was Ginny. Bill came in behind him, gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze and headed outside. Harry stared after him then went over to Ron at the large sink, who was throwing cold water over his face. Harry tried to say something but Ron beat him to it. "It's all going wrong, Harry," he said quietly, glaring angrily at the dishcloth as though it were something vile, "Everything!" Harry frowned. "Surely it's not that bad, Ron. You sounded as if everything was fine in your letter," he said. Ron nodded, looking at Harry. "Yeah, everything was fine, mate. Two days ago. Fred and George have set up a joke shop near Honeydukes in Hogsmeade, and everyone wants their merchandise. You wouldn't believe the money, Harry! But yesterday Percy sent dad a letter saying he was formally dismissed. Fired. By his own son, Harry!" Ron spat angrily into the sink. Harry took this in with painful slowness. "Can Percy do that? How could he?" Harry said, anger and hatred rising in his throat. Percy had once called him crazy and unstable because of his scar and what the tabloids had caught wind of. Ron gave him a mirthless smile; Harry almost stepped back. Ron never gave smiles that had no laughter in them. "He can't, no. But he can persuade Cornelius Fudge to. You know dad's obsessed with Muggles. But Percy never really liked dads interest in them. I guess when dad tried to get Fudge to let some of the Muggles into the Ministry for studying, pushed Percy to far," Ron clenched his fists, "He called Dad a disgrace to wizards, said he was ashamed to have lower class- " Ron stopped. He was so furious that the words caught in his throat. Harry put a hand on his best-friends shoulder. Things were bad, really bad. Charlie stuck his head through the door; his face was smiling. "Ron, come on outside. Harry? Could you calm Ginny down, please? Thank you. Then you can come on out too," His head disappeared. Ron shook the water off his red face then stomped outside. Ginny, though still crying, wasn't shook by racking sobs now and Harry wrapped an arm about her shoulders and said, "Come on, Ginny. It'll all work out in the end; it always does, doesn't it?" Ginny nodded slowly under her arms. "Besides. Percy's a great big balloon, filled with hot air-especially his head- and if he causes anymore trouble, you can just deflate it for him," he continued. Ginny must have imagined something humorous, because when she lifted her head she was smiling mischievously. Then she said hoarsely, "That was a pretty pathetic attempt at cheering me up, Harry." Harry sighed but Ginny managed a grin, got up and tugged on his hand. "Come on!" she said, trying to be cheerful, "I smell sausages!"  
  
* There were, indeed, sausages. And sugar cakes, fairy biscuits, sausage rolls, ham sandwiches, steaming hot vegetable soup and three bottles of Butterbeer at each place on a long wooden table. Harry fell to with zest. He was hungry; he had only two bites of sausage in the Dursleys. They ate in silence for a while then, the uncomfortable bit over, Fred and George entertained them with a new type of fake wand which did the exact opposite spell you asked it to and back-fired it on the holder. They held two wands out to Charlie, one was fake, one was his own and when he picked the wrong one he ended up with an extra head. "My, my," said the new head, staring at the original, "You are a handsome fellow!" Everyone laughed, even Ron. Harry had had his fifth Butterbeer, having raided the fridge for more, when light finally began to dim and the air began to cool. They moved inside and sat on comfy chintz arm-chairs, their feet up on the round coffee table. Fred and George, after changing out of their expensive robes, performed messy spells, again their own creations, then they too settled down to rest. Not one of them mentioned earlier events; not one wanted to and soon they were yawning and the talk had died. "Well," said Bill, yawning as he stood and put down his empty mug, "Best we all get to bed. How 'bout a friendly Quidditch match, tomorrow? Me, Charlie and.um, George onto Ron, Harry and Fred. Waddaya say?" "I'm up for it," yawned Fred, "Our team has a Firebolt!" 


End file.
